By the time Marduk arrived at the lower hall, his heart was racing, and his nerves were completely shot. The idea of enduring another hunt made him sick. He couldn’t lose Shamash as his master. Shamash was all that kept him out of Seth’s hands. Taking a deep breath, Marduk pushed through the door and stepped in to a lively party bathed in candle-light and filled with music. Long maroon curtains with golden trim draped the usually bare walls, and the gods of the Order stood mingling in their traditional dress. None of them wore masks, and none appeared to pay him much notice. Marduk wondered for a moment what kind of party this was. Every party they’d held for him in the past was a masquerade of sorts. They had always stripped him at the door, immediately making him the centerpiece. After taking a few steps in, Emesh approached and greeted him.
“Welcome Marduk, so glad you could come,” Emesh said, taking Marduk’s hand in his.
“Hi.” Marduk furrowed his brow. The formal way Emesh spoke to him felt strange. He hadn’t met with his god friends since the day he took Akad into the forest. “Is Shamash here?”
“Allow me. I’ll take you to him.” Emesh smiled and led him into the room. As Marduk moved farther in, the source of the music came into view. Before the fireplace was a long decorative rug where the table usually stood, a mortal band seated on one end. Along the rug, the gods of the Order sat in chairs watching two female dancers, their bodies undulating to the music. Marduk’s eyes gravitated to a chair on the far end of the rug where Shamash was seated. Shamash met his gaze, and his heart froze. The dread of his impending punishment bore down on him. When Marduk arrived by the great god’s side, Shamash patted his leg, gesturing for him to sit on his lap. Marduk complied, heat spreading across his face. This was the first time Shamash had made him sit on his lap, and he couldn’t help feeling like a child. Shamash pulled him back against his chest.
“I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses and returned to me,” he said in Marduk’s ear. “But I fear it’s already too late. You see, Marduk, I don’t appreciate your attitude lately. I feel somewhat responsible for spoiling you, so tonight I’m going to set things right.” He ran a hand up Marduk’s thigh, stopping beneath his skirt and squeezing his ass. “I think you need a master who will give you the discipline you need. So, after the party, I’ll no longer be your master. I’m giving you to Poseidon.”
“No!” Marduk’s heart jolted, and he turned in Shamash’s lap to face him. “Please, Shamash. I only want you. Please don’t give me away. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Just give me a chance.”
“Do not apologize to me, Marduk. Poseidon is the one you insulted.”
Right then, Emesh appeared before Shamash’s side and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Shamash smiled and nodded before returning his attention to Marduk.
“Very well, Marduk. I’ll give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. If you perform to my satisfaction tonight, serve and obey Poseidon without question, then I’ll keep you. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, I’ll do it,” Marduk replied, his voice barely audible.
“Then, go,” Shamash said.
The moment Marduk rose from his lap, Ninurta and Irra, approached and began stripping off Marduk’s clothing. Then Emesh appeared before him with a piece of golden fabric lined with gold bells in his hands. Emesh tried to suppress a smile as he tied the fabric around his waist, creating a short skirt. Marduk felt a stab to his gut. It suddenly hit him that all his lover friends had participated in past parties; they had fucked and humiliated him while hiding behind masks. He’d been fooling himself for too long. There was no one in the Order he could trust.
After Emesh completed his dress with a gold bell necklace, bracelets, anklets, and earrings, Ninurta appeared before him. Marduk closed his eyes while Ninurta lined his eyelids with black kohl, brushed pink rouge on his cheeks, and applied a sweet berry gloss to his lips. By the time his costume was complete, Marduk’s face was burning, and he could no longer bear to meet their eyes. Was this Poseidon’s request? Did Poseidon ask that he be made up like a goddess?
The moment Ninurta stepped away, a chord from a pipe instrument began to hum. Marduk looked up to behold the mortal band seated on the other end of the rug. Adorned in colorfully designed tunics and sparkling round hats, the men sat cross-legged with their instruments held out before them and in their laps. Another chord struck, the sound stretching and weaving through the air, followed by a singer’s voice, low and nostalgic, calling to something deep inside him. Marduk closed his eyes. The band was from Uruk, his own homeland in the east, playing music he knew well. Then the drums were struck once, followed by a dramatic pause while the pipes continued to hum. Marduk’s stomach dropped. The musical trope was intended to call dancers to attention. The pause marked an opening for dancers to step forward. Tears welled in Marduk’s eyes as he stepped onto the rug, jingling with each step. The implication was clear. They had dressed him like a dancer, and now they expected him to dance. No god had to speak a word; the band would dictate each step.
When the music commenced, the sound rose up, filling the room with a tune so powerful that Marduk was immediately lost in its depths, forgetting about the gods gathered around him. He knew the song well. The music would soon pick up, urging him forward, the drums insisting he spin, the pipes dictating the movement of his hips, and the strings controlling his arms and wrists. Marduk knew how to dance. He’d danced as a child, but never like this. Never had he been made to entertain.
The music suddenly died down to one lonely pipe, followed by the slow pluck of strings. Marduk’s stomach turned. It was his cue to begin. Raising one arm high in the air and placing the other on his hip, Marduk rotated his wrist to the tune, while the music sent a wave through his body undulating to his hips. He snaked his arms, the rich tones permeating his chest, as he rotated his hips with suggestive jerks and swivels. He longed to feel the same desire he’d known before, to own the music in his heart as he danced, but his chest felt hollow; his sole motivation was fear of being given to Poseidon. He could not lose Shamash as his master.
The music paused once more, and Marduk caught his breath, while the gods laughed and cheered. When the music began again, the drums hammered over and over, commanding him to spin. Marduk spun round and round, holding his arms out as he spun, the gods clapping with each beat of the drum until the band let up, providing another break in the dance. Marduk stopped spinning and took a strong stance, his head held up high. This was how it went; the song would continue on, pushing him to the point of dropping, but he was ready to dance all night. He’d do anything to prolong what was sure to come next. Then the music resumed, driving him further, the drums beating longer and faster until exhaustion swept into his limbs.
When the final round of the song came, Marduk was sure he’d fall over. Sweat had dampened his hair and was glistening on his bare chest. Shimmying, Marduk snaked his arms up and around as he turned, rotating his hips one last time, and stomped his foot on the ground as the music came to a halt. The gods roared with whistles and applause, and Marduk’s eyes finally shifted to Poseidon, who sat watching from a seat halfway down the rug.
“Come here, Marduk,” he ordered.
A low chord hummed as Marduk approached, his stomach squeezing tighter with each step. When Marduk stopped before him, Poseidon’s lips curled into a smile. “Come closer,” he said, with a pat on his leg.
Marduk felt his blood drain away as he slid onto Poseidon’s lap; then the music resumed, instructing his hips to move. Marduk sat frozen on Poseidon’s lap, a sharp pain jabbing in his stomach. Then tears of frustration wet his eyes as he began to follow the music’s command. Marduk rotated his hips on Poseidon’s pelvis, ass grinding against his bulging sex, until Poseidon grabbed his hips and stopped his movement.
“Now turn around, and impale yourself on my cock,” Poseidon said, breathless. Marduk’s stomach dropped. The music and conversation in the room had suddenly gone silent. Marduk complied with his orders, and with trembling fingers, fumbled with the god’s clothing until he’d extracted his erection. Holding Poseidon’s massive dick in his hand made tears well in his eyes. He hated Poseidon and wished he’d fucked him when he had the chance. Marduk finally gathered his senses and rose up, positioning his body over Poseidon’s hard shaft. Then he lowered himself slowly until the head pressed against his entrance. He froze, struggling for breath. He tried to will himself to do it, to press down slowly, and swallow Poseidon’s cock with his body.
Then he realized how broken he was. Akad had just fucked him and torn him open. Marduk released a sob, tears flowing freely. Then he grabbed a hold of Poseidon’s shoulders and pushed his ass down on Poseidon’s hardness until his muscles contracted and Poseidon’s thick shaft split him open. Marduk whimpered, pain coursing through him, but he kept pushing down until the head of Poseidon’s cock was completely inside him. He paused; sweat pouring down his face, his heart beating wildly. Then Poseidon grabbed Marduk’s hips and pulled him down. Marduk cried out as sharp pain burned through his passage, stretching and tearing until Poseidon was buried inside him. Marduk gasped and sobbed, his whole body trembling. Every god in this room had fucked him, and seen him fucked, but nothing had ever devastated him like this.
“Now ride me,” Poseidon said. The music began again, and Marduk almost choked on his sobs. He was completely broken. After this point, his tears never stopped. Poseidon took him four times that night before passing him on to the others.